


What Fresh Hell

by Okmeamithinknow



Series: Random canon drabbles [3]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Battlefront musings, Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6873304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okmeamithinknow/pseuds/Okmeamithinknow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Musings from the North</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Fresh Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Chapter 485

  
War is hell.

He knows this; knew it from a time before he knew much else. Before he knew what friendship looked like. Before he knew family, save that overgrown trash can he considers his father. Before he'd had people who actually gave a damn about him. Before he knew joy, hope. Before he knew love. _Her_.

Now, this stark reminder of his darkness. Their darkest moment. The moment he both loathes and knows was the catalyst to the changes that would make him the man he is now.

And she's forgiven him. He knows this.

She said as much during the training he'd forced on her before Tenrou.

Sobbed it over his prone body when he'd been barely clinging to consciousness on the island itself.

Whispered it during the wee hours of the night between breaths of life-giving air that leave him more breathless than it should and than he's willing to admit.

Written into the margins of missives from their time on the council. Teaching her Draconic proved more than a worth while endeavor.

Still it's like they knew he'd be there. Who'd be at his side.

Knew the best way to strike fear into their hearts; to conjure the literal Phantoms of their past. Knew the best way to dash the hope that is the Fairy Tail spirit; the one that burns brightly down in the very marrow of _his_ bones.

As though they know the nightmares.

The ones she denies she still has, but the reek of fear and sweat that soaks the sheets and the way she clings to him are dead giveaways.

The ones that he has that wake him at night. The scent of blood lingers in his nose, _her blood_ , and only the warmth of her body next to his and the sound of her steady beating heart and the gentle breath against his bare chest reassures him of the life he hasn't stolen.

He knew war was hell but he hadn't thought it would be like this.

The mangled bodies of their friends, their extended family of sorts, hang before him and all he can see is her, her, her.

A fire lights low in his belly and he wonders, _briefly_ , if this is where the Salamander gets his catchphrase from. He stokes it, the rage, until it threatens to consume him like the darkness consumed him so long ago.

But this time it's different. He's different.

He's not the man he was and this time, _this time_ , there's something besides the cold feel of victory to warm his heart. He has people to protect, a life to lead, even if it means facing down the darkest parts of his past.

* * *

_For bringing back the worst memory of my life... you are going to feel my full wrath._


End file.
